The Grim and his Boy
by MirrorWakes
Summary: “The last thing Harry had expected when he’d stormed away from the Dursley’s was to come face to face with an escaped murderer who just happened to be a wizard, and had known his father!” Now it’s up to Harry to separate truth from lies.
1. Breaking Out

THE GRIM AND HIS BOY

Fanfiction By: **MirrorWakes**

Summary (because ff.n sucks): "The last thing Harry had expected when he'd stormed away from the Dursley's was to come face to face with an escaped murderer who just happened to be a wizard and had known his father!" Now it's up to Harry to separate truth from lies and in doing so perhaps find a home at last... But then again, to lie is to be_lie_ve. PoA AU.

A/N: Thanks, as always, to my wonderful betas **QueenB** and **Intelligent Witch** and **Rosie**.

Chapter 01: _Breaking Out..._

Disclaimer:_ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I have used many quotes from the authors Terry Pratchett, JD Robb, Lloyd Alexander, MM Kaye, Diana Wynne Jones, Dudley Pope and Douglas Adams in this fic but again, no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

ooOoo

'_There are two types of people in the world: those who want to break in, and those who want to break out._' – PK Shaw

"Lumos,"_ Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him. He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of Number Two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them, Harry saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes. _

_Harry stepped backwards. His legs hit his trunk and he tripped. His wand flew out of his hand as he flung out an arm to break his fall, and he landed hard, in the gutter._

Next moment, Harry almost let out a scream as a giant dog, the owner of the mysterious eyes, materialised to stand threateningly over him.

"N-nice doggy," Harry stammered, realising as he uttered the words, how completely stupid they were. Yet, to his relief, the dog retreated a little, and ceased to appear menacing. After a minute, Harry felt it was safe to escape, and he began to rise. To his utter shock, as soon as the dog realised what he was up to, it disappeared, leaving a tall, ragged man with sunken eyes and filthy, matted, elbow-length hair in its place. The stranger had a gaunt face with a waxy, sick complexion and he was much too thin to be healthy.

"Bloody hell," whispered Harry, for most of his voice seemed to have been stolen by fright. "You're that escaped convict aren't you? You're Black!" Harry had recognised the man he'd seen on television almost immediately.

"Yes," croaked Black, his voice apparently hoarse from disuse.

It came as no little surprise to Harry that, for once, his uncle had been right – '_Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!_'

Harry's eyes widened with fright and he furtively stretched out a hand, feeling for his wand. He tried to think of a way to distract Black from what he was doing, and voiced the first thought that came to mind. "I – I didn't know you were a wizard."

The convict snorted and muttered, "So, Fudge is even using _Muggles_ to find me, hey?"

Harry's searching hand finally came into contact with his wand and he snatched it up gratefully. Black followed his movements and seemed to flinch a little; nevertheless he stared Harry straight in the eye, evidently searching for, and finding... something.

"You have _so_ much of James in you," he said, almost wistfully. Harry was suddenly glad he was lying down; if he hadn't already been on the ground he was sure he would have fallen. The last thing Harry had expected when he'd stormed away from the Dursley's was to come face to face with an escaped murderer who just happened to be a wizard and had known his father!

"You... Dad... I... How?" stuttered a bewildered Harry, making another half-hearted attempt to clamber from the gutter.

"Yes," said Black. He smiled sadly, which made his face look less wasted. "I knew your father. I knew him very well," he added almost to himself.

"Come on," continued Black, offering his filthy, nail-bitten hand. "Let's get you out of there."

Harry didn't move.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, albeit a little less forcefully than he would have liked.

Instead of answering, Black sighed and plonked himself down beside the nervous boy.

"I came to find you," he explained quietly.

Harry's jaw dropped and he sat up quickly, then scrambled to his feet and began backing away. Suddenly, the small thirteen-year-old felt a lot more than simply nervous.

"Don't leave," croaked the convict. Harry was sure he'd imagined the hint of despair in the man's voice. "I'm not going to harm you."

"Why'd you want to find me then?" asked Harry somewhat suspiciously.

"I..." began Black. "I'm not sure why I came here-"

"_Here?_" interrupted Harry, feeling confused and wondering if Black knew what he was talking about. If he'd set out to find Harry, then coming to Privet Drive was the obvious place to go; it was where he _lived_ after all.

"Mmmm. I was planning to talk to you in Hogwarts. I guess I just wanted to get a look at you before I set off." Once again the man seemed to be talking more to himself than to Harry. The boy noticed that the convict's voice was getting stronger, less crackly with use.

"But why'd you want to find me at all?"

Black sighed and looked at Harry for a long time, with an expression on his face that could only be described as 'unhappy'.

"You deserve to know the truth," he whispered, coming to a decision at last. "Sit down and I'll give it to you, as much of it as I know myself. Don't interrupt please," he requested. "This story is going to be hard enough to tell as it is."

After a slight pause, the man began, "I was at school with your father..."

Once he'd started it seemed as if Black couldn't stop. It was as though a dam had broken. The words began to tumble from his lips, tripping over each other in a frantic attempt to be heard. "We were good friends, best friends, along with two others: Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew," Black's face harboured a thunderous expression as he said the latter, the name of his friend spat out of his mouth as if it were poisonous.

"We were inseparable from the first; Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. The Gryffindor Marauders. When we found out Remus, was a werewolf-"

"A _what_?" exclaimed Harry, unable to stop himself.

"Don't interrupt!" reproached Black.

"Sorry."

"We didn't hold it against him," continued Black, his hard look making the boy feel guilty although he couldn't understand why.

"Instead, we became Animagi," the convict said with a hint of pride in his voice. "Of course, _Peter _needed a little help from me and James," he added, almost maliciously.

"What's an-" inquired Harry, forgetting for a moment his vow of silence.

"An Animagus is someone who can turn into an animal at will. One which best reflects their personality."

"You're a dog aren't you?" realised Harry, glad some things were starting to make sense at last. "Padfoot?" he ventured, a little less sure.

Black gave a slight chuckle. "Right on both. How sharp you are. So very like James-"

"What animal was he?"

"James? He was a stag. Prongs," answered Black.

"So, Remus is Moony, ha! Moon! I get it. You're Padfoot and Dad was Prongs. So Peter... he was Wormtail?"

"Correct. Peter the rat! How very fitting," growled the convict, instantly appearing a lot less approachable.

"Fitting? How?"

"Because he's the reason your parents are dead!"

"But Voldemort! He was the one – he... he was-" spluttered Harry.

"Of course _he_ killed them," Black said. "But it was Peter who sold them, and you, to the Dark Lord!"

Harry stared at the man sitting beside him, unable to speak. He didn't think he would have known what to say even if he_ had _been able to.

"Have you ever heard of the Death Eaters, Harry?"

"No," he denied, confused.

"That was the name given to Voldemort's followers. Some were forced into servitude, but others," Black said grimly, "went willingly. Peter was one of them."

"Wait a minute," began Harry hesitantly. "If you were all friends with my dad, then wouldn't Peter have been in _Gryffindor_?"

"Not all people who went bad were in Slytherin, Harry. In fact, many weren't. People just seem to forget those more easily."

"But why would he betray my parents?"

"I don't know and I don't care! I just want to commit the crime I was sent to Azkaban for!" cried Black.

"What crime?"

"I was sent there, twelve years ago, for the murder of Peter Pettigrew!" the man revealed.

"Then you aren't a murderer?" asked Harry tentatively.

"No," confirmed the convict with a humourless laugh. "I was framed for that. Peter faked his own death and left me to take the blame. For everything. You see, your parents knew Voldemort was after them, so they went to Dumbledore for help. Dumbledore knew of an old, old spell called the Fidelius Charm, which concealed a witch or wizard's whereabouts as long as the Secret-Keeper, didn't reveal their location. Naturally, being James' best friend, they chose me.

"Well, that was fine, until I began thinking," Black smiled incredulously. "Wouldn't it be safer to make Secret-Keeper someone whom nobody would even think of? Someone we still trusted, but was not as obvious a choice? Someone like that small, insignificant, traitorous little-" Black cut himself off abruptly.

"Well, anyway, James and Lily reluctantly agreed, and about a week later they were DEAD!"

Harry jumped involuntarily at the unexpected shout.

"Of course I hunted everywhere for Peter," Black said, looking away and taking a deep breath. "And I confronted him, in the middle of a street full of witnesses. Wormtail shrieked some rubbish about _me_ betraying Lily and James, and then he cut off his finger-"

Harry let out a low cry of horror.

"-And changed into his Animagus form," continued Black as if he hadn't heard. "Of course, _I_ was blamed for Peter's 'death' _and_ James and Lily's. But then, I _was_ partly to blame..."

"That's horrible," Harry gasped. "Didn't you tell them? At your trial I mean. Surely there's some sort of truth test-"

"That's just it," interrupted Black, bitterly. "I didn't _get_ a trial."

"But doesn't _everyone_?Surely the wizarding world isn't so far behind that..." Harry trailed off uncertainly.

"This was during the time of Voldemort, well, just after," amended Black, glancing at Harry's scar. "Everyone was afraid, and anyone accused of being a Death Eater was treated unfairly. With the crime I had supposedly committed… Well," he said dryly, "let's just say that I had _no_ hope."

"But that... that's terrible!"

"Twelve years of waiting in hell," the convict murmured quietly. "Now finally I can get – you don't happen to know any Weasleys do you?" Black interrupted himself, his tone suspiciously even. For a moment Harry was too shocked to do anything but stare.

"I'm not sure what year they're in, but I think one's in yours-"

"I know them," Harry said at last. "Ron Weasley's one of my best friends and-"

"Does he have any pets?" Black questioned sharply.

"Er… yes," confirmed Harry slowly, unsure where this conversation was going. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason," answered Black nonchalantly. Perhaps he'd realised it would be unwise to push the young teenager too far too soon. "Where are you heading to?"

Harry knew that Black was trying to change the subject, but he let it drop anyway. He'd become a little uncomfortable at the direction their conversation was heading. Besides, Harry wasn't too sure he knew where he was going himself.

"I thought I'd try to get to Diagon Alley," Harry explained. "Live there for a while and see what happens."

"But what about Hogwarts? Something wrong with the castle?"

"Oh no, Hogwarts is great, it's just, I don't think I'd be allowed back," Harry said sadly, not meeting Black's eyes.

"Why ever not?"

"Because I've just blown up my aunt," Harry revealed in a small voice.

The teenager looked up, startled when Black made a small choking noise. Harry simply stared as the older man dissolved into peals of laughter, his malnourished frame rocking with the force of his chortles and a few tears escaping from his dark eyes.

"S-sorry," Black managed, when he'd calmed down a bit. "I suppose that explains a lot. Listen, I don't think they'd expel you for that. I mean, people have done worse in the past and just got away with a detention, I don't see why you'd be any different."

"Yes but I've done this sort of thing before," Harry confessed. At Black's enquiring look he explained. "Last year, me and Ron flew his dad's car to school. We were er… seen, by Muggles, and we got into _heaps _of trouble..." he trailed off, faintly embarrassed.

"You flew a car to... I don't think even _we_ managed that!" Black said in an admiring voice.

"Dumbledore was really angry, and Snape was _furious_-"

"_Snape_? What's _that _slimy bastard got to do with anything?"

"He's our Potions professor," explained Harry, intrigued at the force with which Black seemed to dislike the man. "But what's that got to do with...? Hang on, of course!" said Harry, slapping his forehead. "You would have been at school with him. He's always going on about how arrogant and stuck up Dad was," Harry said, scowling at the thought, "and if you two were friends-"

"Why that greasy git! He's got no _right_ to talk to you about James. That ungrateful little slime shouldn't be allowed _near_ you!"

Harry privately agreed but didn't say anything. He thought of what Hermione would say if she caught him badmouthing a Hogwarts teacher, even Snape, in front of an almost complete stranger. So Harry once again thought of a way to divert Black's attention, this time away from thoughts of everyone's least favourite teacher.

"What's your name?"

"What? You mean I haven't told you yet?" Black asked, shocked.

"Nope," Harry grinned.

"Sirius. Sirius Black." the convict revealed.

This time it was Harry's turn to break into uncontrollable laughter.

"What, you mean like the dog star?" he gasped.

"Yes," Sirius chuckled. "A bit of a coincidence isn't it?"

"Rather!"

They sat in an almost comfortable silence for a few moments before Sirius ventured to break it.

"How exactly were you going to _get_ to Diagon Alley?" he asked curiously.

"Fly," answered Harry, shrugging.

"Listen, I'll show you a trick," Sirius grinned. "Stick out your hand, with your wand, and pretend I'm your pet." And with that, Black transformed and once more a great, scruffy dog stood in front of Harry.

The teenager didn't have much time to contemplate the meaning of Sirius' words because, with a deafening BANG, something large materialised behind him. Harry whirled around and was confronted by a bright purple triple-decker vehicle with _The Knight Bus _written in gold on the windscreen. A tall, pimply young man in a purple conductor's uniform stepped out, and, barely glancing at Harry, recited in a bored voice, "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor for this evening."

"Oh," said Harry, too shocked to come up with anything more intelligent.

"Well come aboard then," exclaimed Stan impatiently. "Don' make us wait 'ere all night!"

Harry grabbed his trunk and headed for the door, Sirius following calmly in his wake.

"Er, the dog's with me," Harry explained apologetically, seeing Stan's surprised glance. "Don't worry, he's very well trained."

"'E'd better be, else it'll cost you extra," warned the conductor. "'Ere, I'll take that!" he said, pointing at Harry's trunk.

"Er, thanks," said Harry gratefully. The trunk was too heavy for him to lift and, judging from Stan's painful grunts, the trunk was heavy for the older boy as well.

As Harry climbed into the Knight Bus, Sirius padding behind him, he stared in amazement at the rows of brass beds and curtained windows, wood-panelled walls and candles. He started as he heard a crash, and turned around to see Stan holding his back and groaning, Harry's trunk lying on the floor in front of him.

"Thanks," Harry said, hoping nothing was damaged.

"Where'd you want to go?" asked Stan when he'd recovered enough to speak.

"Diagon Alley," answered Harry.

"Woss your name?"

"Er, James Dudley," Harry improvised, saying the first name that popped into his head.

"Righ', that'll be eleven Sickles. If you want 'ot chocolate or 'ot water bottle an' toofbrush, that'll be extra."

Harry looked at Sirius then opened his trunk. Thankfully noting that there wasn't any visible damage, he rummaged around until he found his money pouch and took out a handful of coins.

"How much for two hot chocolates and toothbrushes?" he asked.

"Er, let me just think..."

While Stan was thinking, Harry chose a bed near the front and he and Sirius sprawled on top of it gratefully, glad of a chance to relax.

"Fourteen Sickles," Stan calculated at last. Harry handed over the correct amount and Stan handed him his ticket.

"Righ' James, this 'ere's Ernie Prang," Stan began, pointing to the driver of the triple-decker. Sirius let out an amused sounding wuff.

"Ern, this 'ere's James Dudley an' 'is dog. Woss your dog's name?" Stan asked Harry.

"Er, Paddy," the boy invented. This time the large dog yipped, obviously laughing.

"Righ' Ern, this is James an' Paddy. Take it away!" There was another loud BANG. Harry and 'Paddy' were pushed back onto their bed by the force.

"Don't the Muggles hear?" asked Harry breathlessly, attempting to keep his balance on the many sharp corners.

"They don' listen do they," answered Stan scornfully. "Don' look neither."

"We're in Wales again," called Ernie. "Better wake up Madam Marsh, Stan."

"Wales!" said Harry in surprise. "Exactly where does this bus _go_?"

"Everywhere," said Stan proudly.

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere," confirmed Ernie.

"Wow," Harry muttered as Stan went up the narrow wooden staircase, presumably to wake Madam Marsh.

"So, where're you from?" Ernie asked, as he navigated around buildings and narrowly missed running over a few pedestrians.

"Hogwarts," Harry answered firmly.

"Oh I used to go there," Ernie said, wistfully. "Hufflepuff. You?"

Harry noticed Sirius perk up at the question.

"Gryffindor," Harry revealed proudly. Sirius seemed to grin happily. He definitely licked Harry's hand affectionately.

"Oh you're one of that bunch are you," Ernie said. "Not a bad lot, heart's in the right place, but a right bunch of idiots sometimes, if you take my meaning," Ernie obviously had no idea how offensive he words might seem, but Harry knew the old man meant no harm. He remembered some of the foolhardy stunts he, Ron and Hermione had pulled over their first two years, and thought that he rather knew what Ern meant. So Harry simply nodded the affirmative.

"'Ere we are," said Stan, leading a faintly ill looking witch in a travelling cloak down the narrow staircase.

After Madam Marsh stumbled off the bus, looking rather relieved, Stan handed Harry and Sirius their hot chocolates and toothbrushes. This done, he went to sit behind Ernie and unfurled a copy of_ The Daily Prophet _flipped through to the middle and began to read

Harry glanced at the front cover and felt his jaw drop. 'Black Still At Large', he read. The man lying next to him was making headlines not only in the Muggle world, but the wizarding world as well. Disjointed sentences jumped out at Harry: '_...lives in fear of a massacre... Thirteen people with a single curse_'.

"_Sirius_?" He hadn't realised exactly how much was at stake until now.

Black sat up and growled softly, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the paper. Harry wasn't sure if Sirius could read in his Animagus form, but it was obvious the man got the general drift.

"Yeah, bad business tha'," commented Stan. "Reckon your dog has the righ' idea," he said, nodding at Sirius who was still rumbling menacingly.

Harry looked at Sirius too. Guessing what the growl really meant, he laid a reassuring hand on the dog's back. The growling didn't stop, but at least Sirius seemed to calm down slightly.

One by one the passengers disembarked, until only Harry and Paddy were left.

"Righ', next stop, Diagon Alley!"

ooOoo

A/N: Please review.


	2. Receiving Advice

THE GRIM AND HIS BOY

Fanfiction By: **MirrorWakes**

A/N: Thanks to my two betas **QueenB** and **Intelligent Witch **and **Rosie**.

Chapter 02: _Receiving Advice_

Disclaimer:_ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I have used many quotes from the authors Terry Pratchett, JD Robb, Lloyd Alexander, MM Kaye, Diana Wynne Jones, Dudley Pope and Douglas Adams in this fic but again, no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

ooOoo

'_There is nothing we receive with so much reluctance as advice._' – Joseph Addison

"So... first we need a room," said Harry, thinking out loud.

Sirius huffed in agreement.

"The Leaky Cauldron," Harry continued. "We can stay there for the remainder of the holidays, and then..." He looked at Sirius, realising that the man wouldn't be able to come with him to Hogwarts, even in his Animagus form. They were only aloud one pet, and he already had Hedwig. Besides, students were only permitted a cat, owl or toad.

Harry wondered briefly why Ron was able to bring his rat, Scabbers, but concluded that the Headmaster had given the Weasley family special permission. Harry was sure if he snuck a great, black dog into school, it wouldn't go unnoticed.

Sirius tilted his head to the side and whined softly in a manner that suggested not to worry, they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

Harry smiled slightly at his companion then, trunk in tow, he headed off in the direction of the pub, Sirius following behind.

ooOoo

"Well, that was easy," commented Harry, looking around at the room he and Sirius were to share for the rest of the summer holidays.

"It helps if you have man's best friend by your side, wagging his tail and generally acting lovable," grinned Sirius, who had changed back into his human form as soon as they were alone.

"How's that supposed to help?"

"It distracts attention from the obvious questions. Such as, oh, I don't know – why the Boy Who Lived is by himself, trying to rent a room in the middle of the night, a couple of hundred miles away from home," answered Sirius dryly.

Harry scowled and began unpacking his trunk. "I _did _keep my fringe over my scar," he said testily. "No one would have recognised me."

"Harry, anybody who knew James or Lily would recognise you in a heartbeat," said Sirius, amused. "And Tom, the bartender, knew them very well."

"But you just said-"

"Tom's only priority is to his customers," Sirius explained. "He's a neutral in everything else. You may have noticed some _unusual _people around the place a few times."

"Yeah," Harry confirmed.

"Well, Tom saw me and believed me to be your guard dog or-"

"_Guard dog_? I don't need guarding I-"

"Harry! It doesn't matter whether you do or you don't. It's what Tom believes that's important. If he thinks you're properly protected, he's not going to start asking those awkward questions."

"So the 'lovable companion' bit was for the customers. Is that what you're saying?" ventured Harry.

"Correct," confirmed Black.

"Well you could have just _said_ so."

"I just did," Sirius grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes and finished unpacking. He faced the convict and blinked as something rather urgent occurred to him. "What about your clothes? Don't you have _anything _else?"

"Nope," Sirius denied, giving Harry a lopsided grin. "Only these." He indicated the filthy rags he was wearing. "Which I've worn for twelve years."

"So you've got nothing?"

"Nothing," the older man confirmed.

"Well, at least you have a toothbrush," Harry declared, coughing slightly to hide a chuckle as he handed Sirius his only possession – the toothbrush from the Knight Bus.

"I'm rich," said Sirius sardonically. "Thanks."

"Think nothing of it," said Harry amusedly.

"Don't worry, I won't."

This time, Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing, and after a moment, Sirius joined in.

"Don't worry," said Sirius again, once their laughter had died down. "I'll probably be spending most of the time as a dog anyway."

"Yeah, but still... those rags look like they should be burned and buried."

Sirius chuckled. "Well, first thing's first," he said. "I'm having a wash. A _long_ wash. I may be hours."

"You need it," Harry remarked.

"Oh thank you _so_ much."

"Yeah, well, just being honest."

"Brutally."

"You do stink a bit you know," stated Harry truthfully.

"I haven't had a bath in twelve years," Sirius replied flatly.

Harry winced and stared at the floor. "Oh… I… um... Sorry."

Sirius sighed and walked over to the young boy. Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder he said: "It's not your fault. Just forget it, all right?"

"Yeah. All right."

Sirius twisted his face in what could've passed for a smile and grabbed a towel from the bed. Transforming back to his Animagus form, he trotted off to the bathroom at the end of the hall, gripping the towel in his teeth.

Harry watched the convict until the man was out the door and out of sight, then rubbed his shoulder. _Being gripped by Sirius is rather like having a skeleton grab your shoulder._

ooOoo

Harry glanced up, startled, when he saw the door swing quietly open, apparently by an invisible hand. He grinned in relief when he saw a black canine mussel poke through, shortly followed by a large, clean, dog.

"Well?" asked Sirius, changing back and posing in front of the closed door.

"Great!" complimented Harry. "Now it's my turn."

"Off you go then." Sirius waived his hand vaguely in Harry's direction and wandered over to the window.

"All right. See you in a bit," called Harry, already out the door.

ooOoo

_How much do I tell him? What does he need to know? Will he even **believe** me_? Mind in turmoil, Sirius stared unblinkingly out the window – eyes looking further than the view could offer – as he waited for his godson to return.

ooOoo

As Harry and Sirius were eating their rather delayed dinner (at least, Harry was eating; Sirius was simply pushing the food around on his plate to make new and interesting patterns), Sirius was still contemplating what to reveal to his companion. Finally, he came to a decision.

"Harry," Sirius began.

"Mmmmmm?" Harry answered, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Did I mention that I was your Godfather?"

Harry choked and spat his mouthful of juice out all over his meal. "N-no," he managed.

Sirius grinned at his godson and walked over to thump him on the back.

"Better?" he asked when Harry's coughs had finally subsided.

"Yeah, thanks. Why didn't you? Say you were my Godfather, I mean."

"I wasn't sure how you would take it," said Sirius honestly.

"How I would... But this is great! Does that mean I can come and live with you, instead of going back to the Dursleys?" Harry grinned excitedly.

"What? You mean you'd _want_ to?" said Sirius disbelievingly.

"Yeah!"

"Harry, I don't think you've thought this through. I'm a wanted man. On the run. I don't even _have_ a place to live yet(1)!"

"Yes, but we could come _here_ every summer, to The Leaky Cauldron. Rent a room and…" Harry trailed off as Sirius shook his head.

_Oh gods, now I've gotten his hopes up for naught. Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything... How bad must the Dursleys **be** to make him want to live on the run with a man he didn't even know **existed** until a few hours ago_? Sirius bit the inside of his cheek in thought before continuing very carefully. "We can't keep coming here, it'll arouse suspicion _very_ quickly. Very soon, people will start asking awkward questions. It's better all round, even though I hate the thought as much as you do, if you stay with the Dursleys."

"But I _hate _it there! What if we proved you were innocent? _Are_ innocent," Harry corrected himself, looking rather taken with the idea and proud that _he_ was the one who'd thought of it. "If we could find some evidence, _anything_ that Peter is still alive then-"

"That's why I escaped from Azkaban, to prove I haven't killed anyone," interrupted Sirius.

"How is escaping from prison supposed to prove you haven't killed him? Is there some ward to ensure that you can't escape unless you're innocent? Or-"

"No, no," chuckled Sirius, highly amused at his Godson's misinterpretation. "I meant that I've escaped to _find _evidence to prove I'm innocent."

"Oh," said Harry, biting his lip in embarrassment. "Right."

"Never mind. It's a great idea though," Sirius soothed.

"Really? You think so?" Harry perked up. He couldn't explain why, but just knowing that his Godfather thought an idea of his was 'great', made him proud in a way he'd never experienced before.

"Yep. If someone could come up with the right combinations of wards then, well, who knows what the possibilities could be."

Harry snorted and went back to his pumpkin juice-saturated meal, grimaced, then laid his knife and fork side by side to indicate he'd finished. Sirius smiled almost fondly and began eating with a new appetite.

When Harry glanced at his newfound Godfather, thirty seconds later, he was astonished to see the speed in which the man devoured his food. _How many square meals do they serve in Azkaban_? he wondered, _and_ _exactly how long has he been on the run_? Harry decided not to ask. His Godfather (Harry savoured the word happily in his mind) was wolfing down his meal as if he'd just been told all food was going to be banned tomorrow.

"Er, Sirius?" began Harry.

Sirius grunted to show that he'd heard.

"Exactly what evidence do you think you could find? To prove you didn't kill Peter or Mum and Dad that is."

Sirius sighed and lay down his knife, which he'd been using to spear a potato(2) and wondered anew at how much to reveal to his thirteen-year-old Godson.

"I know where Peter is," he said finally.

"You do? _Where_?"

"Harry... I – I can't tell you. No." He held up a hand, effectively silencing any protest Harry was about to make. "Don't push me on this one. It's for your own good, you know. Trust me. _Please_ Harry."

Harry scowled at Sirius but didn't push. Even _Gryffindors_ knew when to back down. Most of the time.

ooOoo

During the rest of the week, Harry went shopping for school supplies, gazed longingly at the Firebolt – the newest and fastest broom on the market – explored the wares of the rest of Diagon Alley's shops, and ate complimentary ice-creams, courtesy of Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour (who claimed he was good for business). Everywhere he went, Harry had his faithful companion 'Paddy' close by his side; and everywhere they went they heard the escaped 'murderer', Sirius Black, being discussed.

Sirius insisted that Harry shouldn't worry about it, 'it's all simply smoke' he said, but Harry could tell it bothered the man, no matter how much he brushed it off with a wave of his hand and a cheerful grin. So Harry tried to take Sirius' mind off the false rumours by telling him stories of his two best friends – Ron and Hermione, and the Gryffindor trio's dangerous and exciting adventures. This seemed to work quite well except, sometimes, when he mentioned Ron, Sirius would get a strange look in his eye – a look that Harry couldn't decipher. But as quickly as it came, it was gone, and Harry forgot about it.

ooOoo

On the last day of the holidays, Harry and Paddy started down the stairs for one last breakfast at The Leaky Cauldron. When he heard a familiar voice, Harry stopped dead, and Sirius just managed to stop himself from bumping into his Godson from behind.

"_Mrs Weasley_?" he exclaimed.

"Harry! Oh thank goodness you're all right!" Molly Weasley exclaimed, running up the staircase to meet him.

"Er, yes. Why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked, confused.

"Why you've been missing for... Oh Harry dear, nobody knew where you _were._"

"But I've been here," protested the teenager. "Right here in Diagon Alley. Do you mean that _nobody_ could find me?"

"Oh I expect Dumbledore knew you were here. Doesn't miss a trick that man. But the Ministry were searching for you everywhere, until Albus called them off that is. Yes, I expect he _did_ know you were here," said a very relieved Molly Weasley.

"Oh," whispered Harry. "I'm sorry."

Sirius whined behind him and licked his fingers.

"Oh, never mind dear. No harm done." said Mrs Weasley, smiling. She noticed the large dog behind him and asked, "Who's that Harry?"

"Him? Um, that's Paddy. He's been with me all this time. Brilliant guard dog," said Harry, winking at Sirius cheekily.

"Oh _good_. Well, why not come down for a spot of breakfast," suggested Mrs Weasley.

"Yeah okay. Is Ron here too?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Oh yes, and Hermione as well."

"GREAT!"

Harry, Mrs Weasley and Paddy trooped down the stairs to the dining area, where Hermione and the Weasley clan were already breaking their fast with sausages, bacon, eggs and great jugs of orange juice.

Hermione was the first to notice Harry's arrival. "HARRY!" she squealed and promptly leapt out of her chair to grab the thin teenager in a death grip, all the while babbling about how worried they'd all been.

"We must have owled you a _hundred_ times. Where _have_ you been all this time? Are you alright?"

"Yep. Fine," Harry croaked, when his overenthusiastic friend finally let go of him. "I've been staying at The Leaky Cauldron. I don't know why the owls haven't been getting through though."

Then it was Ron's turn. Thankfully, Ron didn't attempt to hug him; he just grinned and thumped Harry on the back a few times with a vigour that would have given Hagrid a run for his money.

When Harry's two best friends had finished greeting him, the rest of the Weasleys – Percy, the twins Fred and George, Ginny and Mister Weasley – expressed their relief that Harry was alive and well. When it was all over, Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys got down to the very serious task of eating breakfast.

"Say who's that Harry?" asked Ron, but because he said it around a mouthful of sausage, it came out more like: 'ooo at awway'. Harry followed his friend's finger, which was pointing at Sirius. His Godfather was on the floor; busy devouring the bacon and sausages Harry had been sneaking him throughout the meal.

"Don't talk with your mouth full Ron," scolded Hermione from Harry's other side, beating Mrs Weasley by a second.

"Yes. That's right," said Mrs Weasley, a bit put out.

"That's Paddy," said Harry. "Listen," he continued, very quietly this time so only Ron and Hermione – who were sitting on either side of him – and Sirius – who had seated himself under Harry's chair – could possibly hear. "I've got something _really_ important to tell you two, but it's _very_ secret. So after we finish breakfast can we go upstairs?"

Sirius pricked up an ear.

"Yeah, all right," agreed Ron, intrigued. "What for?"

"Does this have something to do with Paddy?" ventured Hermione.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, grinning at her. "Got it in one."

ooOoo

Sirius huffed and finished devouring his sausage. _I sure hope that boy knows what he's doing_, he thought. _We can't afford **any** mistakes_. Sirius butted his Godson's hand in warning when it snaked down to sneak his Godfather another rash of bacon. Harry, heeding the warning, rubbed Sirius' head soothingly, then scratched the Animagus behind the ears, in the spot he liked best.

ooOoo

"So, what did you want to show us?" asked Ron, when the trio and Paddy had finally managed to break off from the rest of the Weasleys and come upstairs to the room Harry and Paddy had been sharing.

Sirius, knowing full well what his Godson intended, transformed back into human form and sat on the bed. Sirius had changed during the weeks he'd spent with Harry, so he no longer looked like a skeleton with hair, eyes and clothes – if you could call a wade of rotting cloth, held together by a few stray threads 'clothes'. Even so, Hermione gasped in horror and Ron let out a yell: "Sirius Black!"

Harry quickly dived across the room and clamped his hands over Ron's mouth.

"Shhhhhh. Shut _up_ Ron, you bloody idiot," he hissed desperately, looking wildly behind him at the closed door, as if expecting to see a squadron of armed forces crash into the room at any moment.

"B-but Harry," Hermione stammered, pointing a shaking finger at Sirius. "That's Sirius Black. H-he's a m-_murderer_."

"No I'm not," denied Sirius tiredly. "I was framed for that." Sirius looked into the disbelieving faces of his Godson's best friends and thought that if he couldn't convince these two children that he was innocent, how on earth could he hope to convince anyone else?

Ron went red and tore Harry's hands from his mouth. "Why should we trust _you_? Give me one good reason."

"Because I do," said Harry quietly, "and because he's my Godfather."

The silence that followed this statement could have been broken with a pickaxe.

"What?" asked Hermione, faintly.

"Sirius Black is my Godfather," repeated Harry.

"Harry, are you telling me that this man, _Sirius Black_, who escaped from _Azkaban prison_ came up to you in the streets and said 'Oh, hey mate, guess what? I'm your Godfather!' and you _believed_ him? Just like that!"

Harry opened his mouth to give an angry retort but refrained when Sirius held up a hand.

"No, he's right Harry. Perhaps it _does_ sound a bit stupid from their point of view."

"Too right it does," growled Ron angrily.

So Sirius proceeded to tell Ron and Hermione exactly what he'd told Harry on that fateful night in Privet Drive; and like Harry, Ron and Hermione badgered Sirius with interruptions throughout the tale. When he'd finally finished, Sirius was pleased to note that they looked a lot less inclined to run screaming out the door.

"I'm not saying I believe you," said Hermione cautiously, "but all this _does_ seem to make a sort of sense."

"Yeah," agreed Ron grudgingly. "Maybe. But that doesn't mean you're off the hook."

"Oh _thank you_," said Sirius, breathing a sigh of relief.

ooOoo

(1)I don't think Sirius would include Grimmauld Place as a suitable place to live. I mean, it took him until OotP to go back there, and that was only for the Order's headquarters, not a place to live forever.

(2)Table manners weren't exactly required in prison, and the Ministry wasn't about to give the convicts any weapons – such as cutlery. They wanted the prisoners to live out their lives to full extent, receiving the full benefits of the Dementor guards, and not do away with themselves halfway through their sentence. The Ministry was very understanding of their convicts in these matters.


	3. Where To Go

THE GRIM AND HIS BOY

Fanfiction By: **MirrorWakes**

A/N: I know all this is a little out of order but, well, it _is_ an AU…

I'm only using the canon as a guide so, yes, there _is_ a proper explanation for why Fudge didn't meet Harry at The Leaky Cauldron but no, I'm not telling you now. You'll just have to keep reading, won't you lol.

Thank you so much to my beta **Rosie** and to everyone who reviewed.

Chapter 03: _Where To Go_

Disclaimer:_ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I have used many quotes from the authors Terry Pratchett, JD Robb, Lloyd Alexander, MM Kaye, Diana Wynne Jones, Dudley Pope and Douglas Adams in this fic but again, no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

ooOoo

'_Those who advise us to keep going seldom tell us where._' – PK Shaw

After breakfast, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sirius decided to separate from the rest of the Weasley clan and do their shopping on their own. Since Harry had already bought his school supplies the week before the process was over rather quickly. Pretty soon all that remained to be purchased were that year's books and Hermione's new owl. As the quartet entered Flourish and Blotts the manager came hurrying towards them.

"Hogwarts?" he asked, a little nervously in Harry's opinion.

"Yeah," confirmed Ron. "We need two copies of _The_ _Monster Book of Monsters_ and-"

"_Two_?" whimpered the manager, looking alarmingly close to tears.

"Er… Yes…" confirmed Ron uncertainly.

"Oh dear, oh dear. Never again! I'm _never_ stocking these books again! _The Invisible Book of Invisibility _was bad enough but _this_!" The manager continued, muttering in this fashion as he fetched his thick gloves and knobbly walking stick. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sirius followed the man to the front of the store where all copies of _The_ _Monster Book of Monsters_ were kept in a large iron cage. He jabbed the walking stick through the door and whacked the books energetically until he managed to isolate two. He then opened the door and swiftly plucked them out, all the while mindful of their unfriendly snapping pages.

"Here," panted the manager, thrusting the books at Ron who backed away nervously.

"Well how am I supposed to fetch their straps if they're trying to take my hand off?" asked the manager, sounding exasperated.

"Well then how're _we_ supposed to hold them?" demanded Ron, taking another cautious step backwards and glairing at the manager.

"We could stand on them," suggested Harry.

The manager gave the green-eyed teenager a grateful look and promptly dropped the books on the floor, almost running to the back of the store.

"Oh no we _can't_, Harry!" gasped Hermione, looking scandalised. "These are our _school_ books. We can't just go jumping on them all the time!"

"We're not _jumping_ on them Hermione. Besides, how _else_ are we supposed to keep them from getting away?" Harry rolled his eyes. Trust Hermione to make a stink about anything out of the ordinary involving schoolwork.

"Well, at least take your shoes off!"

Harry and Ron obeyed reluctantly.

"Quick! Come on, they're getting away!" yelled Ron. The redhead pelted after one of the copies, which was quickly making its way towards the back of the shop, leapt and just managed to land with one foot planted awkwardly on the runaway tome.

"Ron!" gasped Hermione.

Ron made a face at his friend and pointed to the other book, which was about to conceal itself behind a bookshelf.

Sirius sprang after it and trapped the textbook under one of his massive paws, dragged it towards him and sat on it, panting.

"Good boy," laughed Harry, turning to Hermione and raising his eyebrows.

His bushy-haired friend huffed bad-temperedly and turned her back on the lot of them to pursue the other literature available.

The manager shuffled reluctantly back to the front of his store but when he realised that he wasn't about to be dreadfully assaulted by a couple of his own texts, he sighed with relief and handed Harry the leather straps he'd gone to fetch. After handing one to Ron, Harry walked cautiously towards the Animagus and his struggling charge.

"I think I'd better do Hermione's," Harry muttered to his godfather, gingerly kneeling down whilst holding the strap out in front of him. "Knowing her, she'd probably try and stroke the bloody thing to calm it down!"

Sirius barked, looking amused, and shifted just sufficiently to allow his godson to bind the book tightly without it taking a few fingers off.

"Thanks," said Harry. Holding the book in his left hand, he levered himself to his feet with his right. As Harry turned to hand the book to Hermione, his big toe connected painfully with some unseen obstruction.

"OUCH!" yelped Harry, hopping up and down whilst clutching his bruised toe. Sirius whined and poked the thirteen-year-old's foot with his muzzle, apparently checking for serious damage.

The manager hurried over, looking concerned, and prodded the seemingly empty space with his own – booted – toe. He grinned happily and clapped the injured teenager on the back.

"You've just found my missing copies of _The Invisible Book of Invisibility_! Thank you very much!"

"You're welcome… I suppose," said Harry through gritted teeth.

The manager bent to pick up his long-lost texts. "Here," he said, supposedly thrusting a copy at Harry. "Keep it, free of cost. You deserve it."

Harry felt around until his hand came into contact with the invisible book. He thanked the man and, closely followed by Sirius, went to stand beside Ron who was quietly sniggering behind his hand.

"Shut up," suggested Harry. "Hey, where's Hermione?"

"Over there with… What the heck's she _doing_?" gasped Ron.

Both boys stared, open-mouthed, as Hermione staggered over to the counter, knees practically buckling under the tonne of books she carried in her arms.

"What are all _those_ for?" asked Ron suspiciously.

"School, of course. I'm taking quite a few more subjects than you two, remember?" answered Hermione, wheezing slightly.

"Going to catch up on sleep in History of Magic then, are you?" grinned Harry.

"Don't be stupid, I can handle it," said Hermione haughtily.

"'Course you can," said Ron, a little disbelievingly.

Hermione sniffed and went back for another armload.

Sirius nudged Harry's hand for attention and, upon receiving it, comically rolled his eyes.

Harry grinned and scratched Sirius' favourite spot behind his ears. "I know, Paddy. I know," he said.

ooOoo

After depositing their individual burdens at The Leaky Cauldron and buying an ice-cream each, Ron and Hermione met Harry and Sirius outside the Magical Menagerie to buy Hermione's owl.

"Here you are," said Ron, handing Harry two of the cones.

"Thanks." Harry held out both of the ice-creams in front of him and when Sirius chose the chocolate-flavour with a jab of his snout, Harry took a lick of the strawberry. He bent down so Sirius could have a taste of his own sweet.

"What sort of owl are you after, Hermione?" asked Ron, peering through the window.

"I don't know, whatever takes my fancy, I guess."

"Let's go in then," Harry suggested, opening the door for his godfather and his two best friends, and then following in their wake.

The quartet waited until the witch behind the counter finished speaking to a wizard about double-ended newts before approaching.

"It's my rat, Scabbers," he told the witch, gently placing the sorry-looking rodent on the counter. "Ever since I took him to Egypt he's been-"

Ron stopped, startled, when Sirius began snarling ominously.

"Paddy?" whispered Harry. "What…? Oh my God!" Harry looked from Scabbers, who was now frantically fighting Ron's grip, to the growling Sirius and back again. But before he could move, a great, hissing orange blur latched itself onto Ron's scalp.

"OUCH!" yelled the redhead, buckling under its weight.

"NO CROOKSHANKS!" screeched the witch, flinging herself around the counter to beat at the yowling menace, which appeared to be a rather angry cat.

"Get it off! Get it off!" howled Ron.

The cat leapt off Ron, using his head as a launching pad, to make a dive at the hand holding Scabbers.

Ron frantically tried to shake off Crookshanks, but the orange feline just dug its claws deeper into his freckled hand, causing Ron's eyes to water with the pain.

Harry gripped the cat in both hands and tried to pull it off, but Sirius clamped his jaws around the seat of his jeans and dragged the green-eyed boy away.

Hermione, nimbly dodging Sirius and his godson, grabbed Crookshanks by the scruff of his furry neck and managed to tug him off.

Ron sighed with relief and unclenched his hand, checking to see if Scabbers had been harmed in the mayhem. This was difficult to tell because the rat was curled up defensively in a quivering ball and refused to move, no matter how hard Ron prodded him.

"Let's go," said Harry when Sirius finally released him.

"But what about _Scabbers_, Harry? Just _look_ at him!"

"Ron… There's something really weird going on here. Somehow, I don't think there's anything actually _wrong_ with Scabbers." Harry had the strong suspicion that Scabbers wasn't exactly what he seemed to be. One look at Sirius' bared fangs confirmed it.

"What? Harry, I think you need new glasses. Scabbers looks half _dead_ and _what the hell do you think you're **doing**_,_ Hermione_?" Ron watched in horror as his best friend handed over the Galleons to buy the creature that had just used its claws to puncture his skull and then tried to eat his pet.

"Poor Crookshanks is _lonely_, Ron," said Hermione, by way of explanation.

"That's right," confirmed the witch behind the counter, looking overjoyed at the prospect at finally being rid of the orange menace. "He's been here for _years_ and nobody's ever given him a second glance!"

"Oh, I wonder why!" spat Ron, his face turning a deep red that could only be matched by his hair.

"Ron, we _really _need to get out of here," hissed Harry. He placed his hand lightly on Sirius' head in a vain effort to calm the Animagus down. "Make sure you've got Scabbers. Right… He's _asleep_ after all _that_? Crikey! Oh, well. Good. That makes things a lot easier. Now, whatever you do _don't let him go_!"

"What's going on, Harry? What's wrong with Paddy?" Hermione asked, hugging a now purring Crookshanks around the middle.

"I'll explain outside… I think I've figured something out."

"Figured _what_ out?" asked Ron, in no mood to tiptoe around the tulips after his recent ordeal.

"_Outside_, Ron," growled Harry.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and an incensed Sirius filed out of the Magical Menagerie and began walking in the direction of The Leaky Cauldron. Sirius broke away from the group to plonk himself under one of Florean Fortescue's tables and refused to budge, so Harry, Ron and Hermione seated themselves around the Animagus to have their conversation.

"What's this about, Harry?" asked Ron in a low voice.

"Well, you know how Peter Pettigrew's Animagus form is a rat-" Harry broke off when Florean walked over, balancing four huge ice-cream-sundaes in his hands.

"Er, thanks," said Harry, as Florean placed the ice-creams carefully in front of him. The manager gave a mock salute and strolled back inside to serve other hungry customers. Harry slipped a sundae under the table for Sirius and passed the other two to Ron and Hermione.

"What were you saying about Peter?" asked Hermione, scooping up a large chunk of ice-cream with her spoon and slowly licking it off, savouring the delicious flavour.

Harry took a deep breath and sat down his own spoon. Catching Ron's eye, he indicated for his redheaded friend to follow suit. "How long have you had Scabbers, Ron?" he began.

Hermione gasped. "Oh, surely not! Harry, that's impossible! The Weasleys would have _known_ if Peter Pettigrew was hiding in their house!"

"WHAT?" yelled Ron, startling quite a few passers-by and causing the small group to be the object of quite a few disapproving glares.

Sirius growled in warning and moved out from under the table to sit beside Harry's chair. The teenager reached down and absently scratched Sirius' favourite spot behind his ears.

"Listen to me, Ron. It makes sense," hissed Harry, glancing around nervously to make sure nobody was paying attention anymore. "Warmtail's Animagus is a rat – Scabbers is a rat-"

"Just because I happen to own a rat doesn't mean it's a fugitive murderer," interrupted Ron.

"Ron, shut up!" ordered Hermione. "Let Harry finish… Yes, I know he's acting mental," she gave Harry a pointed look, "but I think we should hear him out… there might just be some method to his madness."

Ron scowled at his two best friends, but didn't say anymore.

"Right," continued Harry, "just think about this for a minute: Peter severed his index finger to frame Paddy – Scabbers' _middle _toe is missing on his front paw and I bet anything that's the hand Pettigrew cut his finger from, right Sirius?" Harry, Ron and Hermione looked to the older man for confirmation; Sirius nodded his head and gave a soft "Woof".

"Oh, c'mon Harry, that's just coincidence," scoffed Ron. "Scabbers got into a fight with another rat, that's all." Ron grinned a little uneasily and began methodically spearing his spoon into his sundae.

"How old is Scabbers, Ron?" asked Harry abruptly.

"I don't know… Percy had Scabbers before he got his owl, after that he gave him to me, so he's twelve at least," answered Ron, slightly confused by the odd question.

"A bit old for a common household rat, isn't he?" said Harry furtively.

"We've looked after him!" said Ron defensively.

"Not looking too good now, is he? Not since we heard Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, anyway."

"Egypt didn't agree with him!" retorted the freckle-faced boy.

"He was looking fine in that newspaper clipping you sent me and you'd been there for a week at least by then."

"Yeah, but… oh," said Ron, unable to think of a logical explanation.

"It _does_ explain a few things, Ron," said Hermione slowly. "I always thought it a bit strange that Scabbers was so healthy, considering his age I mean. You've got to admit, Scabbers was overreacting a bit back in the pet shop. Why should he flip when _Paddy's_ there? Crookshanks hadn't even turned up yet!"

"Well…" said Ron, biting his lip. "I guess…"

"Look," said Harry, "it makes sense. Even _Hermione_ thinks so." The green-eyed boy smiled at his logic-loving friend. "Thing is, we can't _do_ anything about it! Not yet, anyway. My suggestion is we wait until we're at Hogwarts. Tell Dumbledore what we know… But the real question is: until then, do we tell anyone else?"

Sirius yipped sharply to get the trio's attention and shook his head emphatically.

"I'd say that's a 'no'," grinned Ron, face a little pale which caused his freckles to stand out quite a bit. "Harry, if what you and Hermione are saying is true… Does that mean I've let a murderer share my _food_?"

"Ron! Honestly, that's disgusting! Sharing your food with a _rat_, Animagus or not, is very unhygienic!" scolded Hermione, shaking her finger at Ron in a disapproving manner.

Harry laughed but sobered quickly. Peter Pettigrew wasn't a very amusing topic. The man who had framed his godfather for murder and practically killed his parents was at this very minute maraudering as his best friend's pet. The thirteen-year-old turned to his godfather, hoping to gauge the older man's reaction to the recent conversation. Despite the fact that it was fairly difficult to read emotions on a canine face, Harry could tell that Sirius wasn't displeased. The Animagus seemed to be lost in thought, but when he caught Harry watching him, he gave his young godson's hand an affectionate lick. Harry smiled at Sirius and turned back to his two best friends.

"I think we'd better consider heading back," proposed Ron, looking at his watch. "It's getting pretty close to one thirty, and we promised we'd meet the others at The Leaky."

"Oh, right," said Hermione, "just a moment, I'm nearly finished." The bushy-haired girl scraped her spoon over her bowl, catching the last melted traces of ice-cream.

"That's not how you do it, Hermione," grinned Ron. He lifted his bowl to his face and began to lick off the last of the drops.

"Oh my god Ron, that's _really_ gross," laughed Harry.

Ron simply poked his tongue out at the other teenager and resumed licking.

"Boys, _so_ immature," complained Hermione to nobody in particular.

ooOoo

The next day Harry, Sirius, Hermione and the Weasleys arrived early at King's Cross in one of the cars the Ministry of Magic had provided. The trip had been particularly uneventful, a fact which made Harry slightly nervous.

The Ministry chauffeurs found the students trolleys and, after unloading their trunks, drove away again.

Mr Weasley decided to go through the barrier in pairs, so he went first with Harry (Sirius following closely behind) and the rest filed in after.

As the others were loading their trunks onto the Hogwarts Express, Mr Weasley ushered Harry and Paddy aside for a private talk. "First of all Harry, what are you going to do about Paddy? You can't take him on the Express, or to Hogwarts for that matter. I'd offer to keep him myself if you think he'd stay."

"Really? Thanks for the offer Mr Weasley, that'd be great! I found him on Privet Drive and I didn't fancy the idea of just making him fend for himself," Harry smiled gratefully at his friend's father. He was telling the truth: Harry didn't want his godfather to scrounge for food and shelter, nor did he want Sirius to hide at Hogwarts – there was too great a risk of the convict getting caught. If Sirius could live with the Weasleys, the kindest family Harry knew, he felt confident the Animagus would be well cared for. Harry glanced down when his godfather licked him on the hand. He smiled fondly and rubbed Sirius' ears as the Animagus panted happily.

"Very good. Well, I'm glad that's sorted out. Now, on to more serious matters. We, that is, the Ministry, believe that Sirius Black – you know all about him? Yes, good – escaped from Azkaban with the intention of… well… hurting you." Mr Weasley looked decidedly uncomfortable as he revealed this information and Harry got the distinct impression that the redheaded man wasn't supposed to be telling him this.

"Why would he want to hurt _me_?"

"Well, you are You-Know-Who's downfall…"

Paddy growled threateningly and thrust himself roughly in between Mr Weasley and his godson. He stared unblinkingly at the balding man and the expression on his canine features could only be described as accusing.

"Yes… Well, that's the spirit!" said Mr Weasley nervously. "Loyal dog that."

"Paddy, stop it," whispered Harry, "it's not his fault."

Sirius stopped rumbling but remained tense for the rest of the conversation.

"Harry, promise me, whatever you hear, you won't go looking for Black and stay within the school grounds."

"Mr Weasley, why would I go looking for someone who wants to _kill_ me?"

"Good lad," said Mr Weasley hastily. "Very sensible. Got a good head on your shoulders."

"Arthur! It's nearly time," yelled Mrs Weasley, bustling over to the small group.

Harry dropped to his knees in front of Sirius and leant forward so they were almost nose-to-nose. "Watch out for yourself," he said in a low voice. "Don't give the Weasleys any trouble, they're the best! I'll write to you every week!"

Sirius quickly licked his godson's nose and, as Harry was making noises of revulsion, the Animagus whined and tilted his head to the side.

"Urgh! Paddy, you twerp!" growled Harry, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Then his face softened and the green-eyed boy hugged the Animagus around the neck. "Miss you," he whispered. Harry quickly stood up and surreptitiously wiped his sleeve (the one without the dog slobber) over his eyes.

Just then the whistle blew and Harry ran onto the Hogwarts Express, not wanting to be left behind. As the train slowly pulled away from the platform Harry leant out the window and waved to Mr and Mrs Weasley. He laughed as Sirius galloped along with the train and waved furiously at his godfather, stopping only when he was too far away to see him.

ooOoo

A/N: A few more unhelpful remarks from the author… I've been slack, I know. But I'm not giving up on this one! Please Review!


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